


Fire & Ice

by lunalavellan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abandonment, Abusive Relationships, Alistair (Dragon Age) is a Good Friend, Awkward Cullen, BDSM, Childhood Trauma, Cole (Dragon Age) Talks A Lot, Cullen Fluff, Cullen Has Issues, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullen Smut, Dorian is a Good Friend, Drug Abuse, Drunk Sex, Elf Culture & Customs, Elf Sex, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Fluff and Smut, Haven (Dragon Age), Helpful Cole (Dragon Age), Inquisition Agents (Dragon Age), Jealous Cullen, King Alistair, Kinky Cullen Rutherford, Leliana (Dragon Age) Knows All, Light BDSM, Love, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mages (Dragon Age), Minor Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Oral Sex, POV Cullen Rutherford, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Iron Bull, Red Lyrium Cullen, References to Depression, Rough Sex, Sad, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, Top Cullen Rutherford, Trauma, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend, Varric Tethras' Nicknames, Warden Alistair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 04:18:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunalavellan/pseuds/lunalavellan
Summary: Luna Fenrelis finds her life turned upside down as she escapes her life of theft and political assassination contracts in the Dalish slums to come to Skyhold with her two lifelong friends, Owen and Jared. She makes new friends and new enemies, this mysterious organization suddenly starting to feel like home. Cullen Rutherford, an ex-templar working as a commander for the Inquisition armies, catches her eye and she spends most of her spare time trying to convince herself to remain as far away from him as possible while he battles with his own demons while secretly observing her. But as time goes on and her past issues start resurfacing to haunt her, will she be able to overcome them while also battling alongside the Inquisition? Will she be able to finally open up to her own self and finally resolve the hidden monsters in her closet while coming to terms with her emotions?rated M for relationship abuse / heavy sexual contentHEAVY NSFW later in the series - abuse warning - heavy emotional baggage & whatnot - shit gets deep idk





	Fire & Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Doing my best to not re-explain everything that was seen in-game (sorry); introducing Luna and her two friends and drawing out a whole lot while introducing characters and their quirks and such; i really hope you guys like it! if the sections are too long i'm so sorry i write so much ;-; 
> 
> later chapters will definitely have heavy NSFW content and a lot of angst so if that isn't your thing I'm so sorry; possibly considering a love triangle between Cullen and Alistair and this elven OC? tell me in the comments if you'd like for me to implement something like that!!!

“Luna” a boy with snapping black eyes gently shook her awake, “c’mon, we’ve gotta go. The guards are asleep.”

She groaned, sleepily swatting her hand at him.

“Luna, really, if we don’t leave now we’ll never make it”

            She finally sat up, sleepily stretching before beginning to roll up her sleeping mat.

The sun was barely up, and now was a terrible time to be awake. But her friend was right.

            A caravan from the Inquisition was their main target: they were to sneak their way into the cargo and remain hidden until they reached the almost fabled city of Skyhold, the “castle in the sky.” There was plenty of room in the wagons: enough for three small teenagers to wedge themselves into trouble until they got to their destination. The guards were asleep in their tents, and the one guard posted near the caravan was dead asleep.

It would be a better life for all three of them, much better than the Dalish slums they’d all grown up in. Owen, the one to wake Luna, was no elf, but an outcast all the same. He was well known for his constant errands, doing his best to help the armies during this time of need. He had received enough letters from the local garrison requesting that he join their cause, but he chose to stay and take care of his two “siblings.” Towering at nearly seven feet tall, he was known in the marketplace and the local barracks and had broken up more than one petty squabble between nobles and elves alike.

Jared was a small, sprightly elf with plenty of escapes under his belt: it was his idea to execute this plan, to finally get the three out of their life of petty theft and shady one-time political contracts. He was very much the eyes and ears of his group, always knowing when and where a noble would be and when would be the best time to pick his pockets clean.

Luna had the makings, visually, of a noblewoman, but an outcast all the same. Her purple eyes were larger than most, nearly crystalline in their nature, bringing unwanted attention to her existence often. Dark material hugged her figure, her waist tiny and her hips full despite her smaller stature. Wavy, thick hair hung past her shoulders, her right side shaved close to her skull. Tiny scars littered her arms with pale flesh, the occasional tattoo making its way past her sleeves. No one really knew where she came from, other than a couple kind souls in the slums taking her in whenever she was a screaming, helpless bundle left on their doorstep. Rumor had it she was the result of a noble love affair, but these whispers made her uncomfortable and she did her best to ignore them.

 “Alright, so” Jared unrolled his crudely drawn map while they squatted behind a wagon, “I’m going to wedge myself into this wagon, right here. There’s barrels and I’d rather be in a barrel than anything else. There’s some room in the one next to me, Luna, if you’d like to be in that one. Don’t let yourself be heard. Don’t do anything that would make the entire group regret this expedition. We just can’t get caught. This is our one chance out of this dump.”

“Why don’t we just ask to go with them?” Luna sighed, still grumpy and still sleepy. She rubbed her eyes, last night’s makeup smearing all over her eyes.

Jared sighed, exasperated that he’d been asked this more than once. “Because they won’t take three grubby thieving children into the Inquisition. It’s better for us to sneak there and then blend in later. There’s so many of them, there’s no way they’ll notice us just milling about and minding our own business.”

“I could join the army. They’d let me in if I offered that.”

“Yes, Owen, I’m fucking well aware. You’re tall and human. They’ll take you. You can do as you please: I just don’t want to eat nothing for dinner again. And I’m tired of robbing the same nobles and pacing back and forth every day whenever Luna goes on a political contract because I’m never sure she’ll make it home.” Jared rubbed his temples and yawned. “Anyway. While they’re still sleeping, I’m going to make myself comfy for the ride in that wagon barrel. See you all there.”

And with that, he was gone.

“Well… guess it’s our turn.” Owen sighed as he climbed into one of the wagons, “Just don’t wake that guard. He’s starting to stir.” He crawled into a pile of sacks and did his best to look inconspicuous, his lengthy figure difficult to cover.

Luna carefully crept her way into the last wagon in the line, finding an empty but perfect shaped box to fit her slender body well enough for the long nap she planned ahead of her. She stuffed her cloak inside and shifted her way in, pulling her small sack of belongings in with her. It was comfier than she expected, and nobody would care to look inside, she hoped. The wagon was packed to the brim with parcels and crates and bags full of dry goods. There wouldn’t be any real reason for them to check for inventory at a time like this.

Hours passed, and Owen had to hiss more than once for Jared to stop his snoring before they were found. A rough voice finally boomed “Time to go! Get the horses up! We march to Skyhold!”

Luna opened one eye in the light peering in through a crack in her little box, grinning when the wagon started to move. They were finally leaving. Finally. This wretched, dirty little hole that she’d even refused to call home for her entire 20 years of living. She was leaving, and she’d never look back. Her heart pounded as she lay in her box, hoping the trip would pass by quickly. The heat was not kind here. She almost couldn’t hear herself think, with how loudly the horse pulling the wagon made its way over cobblestones.

Many more hours passed, and Luna almost wished for death in this stuffy little crate she’d wedged herself into. The air reeked of horse and horseshit, and what little ventilation she had was taken up by the sacks of grain in the wagon. Her box had been shuffled to the side more than once as soldiers took food breaks throughout the day, and her heart just about stopped the one time someone commented that the box seemed a little heavier than most.

A day’s worth of travel passed, and just when she thought she couldn’t stand another ten minutes in her box, she heard the sound of horse’s hoofs on cobblestones and a drawbridge gate being opened. She carefully peered outside, and nearly choked when she saw the distance below her. They were definitely at Skyhold, now, passing into the city via the bridge that lay before them.

“Think Commander Cullen is back yet?” one soldier drawled.

“Probably. Him and the Inquisitor.” The other responded.

These names meant nothing to Luna at this point and time, but she still took note of them all the same. She clutched her bag of items close, the taste of freedom so close and yet so achingly far as she knew she’d have to wait for nightfall in order to escape her limited confines.

So many smells and clean, fresh air met her face as they passed into the city, people bustling around and getting ready to receive the soldiers and their cargo. However the wagon train quickly halted as a stiffer voice yelled out “Check the cargo and distribute accordingly!”

_Shit._

Within his barrel, Jared started to panic. What if they opened his barrel and killed him on the spot? What if they tossed him into some ravine inside the barrel? His heart began to pound in his throat as he brought his knees closer to his face, as if to try and make himself smaller. For once in his life, he had nowhere to go except up. And going up meant revealing himself, which almost certainly meant death. No, no not after all this effort and all this waiting. He inhaled sharply and smashed the lid of his barrel open with his fist.

Jared burst from his confinement and took off running in the first direction possible, tripping on the side of the wagon in his haste and startling one soldier nearly out of his armor and causing much more attention than he’d planned. “The fuck?!” one exclaimed as Jared haphazardly took off towards the barracks, grabbing at him only to have him slip away like water. “Capture him! And check the other cargo!”

 _Fuck_ inwardly groaned Luna, _I knew he’d panic. I knew he couldn’t wait._ She felt her box being picked up and she gripped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. _Oh no. Oh no no no. Please, Maker, please, I don’t—_ Luna’s thoughts were hastily rattled out as a soldier gave her wooden confinement a hearty shake,  causing her to spill out onto a grassy landing and eliciting a small squeak of surprise. “Maker be damned, it’s a _girl_!” he laughed, tossing the box aside. Luna felt the piercing number of eyes directed towards her, as she tried to scoot backwards into a shelter that was no longer there for her. Her back met the side of a wagon wheel as the soldier roughly grabbed her arm, lifting her upwards to get a better look at her. “Young, and pretty, this one—and elfy! It’s a knife ear!” he laughed, dangling her in front of him like a captured animal. She struggled, trying to release his hold around her wrist, “Let go!”

“Aw, are you scared, little knife-ear?” he mocked, bringing her closer to his metallic breath. “How about I take you to MY quarters, hm? I’ll just keep you for myself while we hunt your knife-ear friend. I’m sure we could use you to make him come out, make him show himse—ow!” Luna sank her teeth into the soldier’s tight grasp, scrambling towards the first building she could see once she had her newfound freedom. “She fuckin’ bit me! Get her!”

“Luna!” Owen shook himself from his hiding spot, standing straight up in the wagon. “Luna come back!”

Luna burst through the door, desperately searching left and right for a place to go. The footsteps of the soldiers were right on her tail and she had little to no time before she’d be caught—and she most certainly did not come all this way to be some soldier’s plaything. Running from authorities was normal, as it was for anyone who lived in the slums, but this—this was different. She was in an unfamiliar city, with no knowledge of its nooks and crannies, full of unfamiliar people and no immediately visible holes she could just hop into for last resort. And for once, it seemed like she was the minority in this strange, strange Inquisition. She needed to find Jared and hide. Owen, too.

She darted down the left hallway, her breaths ringing in her ears as she heard the soldiers clambering in, their armor clanking as they rummaged through the building looking for her. She kept running, hoping that there would be somewhere she could maybe hide and then eventually escape. Up a flight of stairs, down another hallway, left, right… this building never seemed to end. And every corner she turned seemed to be another soldier on her tail, another soldier notifying the searching group that an intruder was present. The windows had bars on them. Going back down wasn’t an option: the stairs were full of guards and the shadows behind doors were only so useful as hiding places for so long.

“There!” one man barked, appearing at the end of the hallway and pointing a finger. “Get her!”

Luna yipped and turned in the opposite direction, hoping and praying she’d find someplace to escape. The soldier’s words rang in her _maybe I could keep you for myself… knife-ear…_ Things were going way too fast and she only knew that she did not want to end up as someone’s slave after being a slave to the slums for her entire life. She skittered up another flight of stairs, her cloak suddenly grabbed from behind. She instinctively cut part of it off, fleeing while leaving her attacker with a piece of it.

She fled further down the hallway, tripping on her footing and stumbling forward. _They’ll get me now… dammit…_ she could the footsteps jarring in the floor below her, and it was only a matter of time before they’d find her.

“Hey!” a voice called out. She lifted her head to see a hand outstretched towards her, “Come with me! I’ll hide you!” She peered at him, his stringy blonde hair and piercing eyes an immediate factor. His hat was perched on his head, its wide brim almost ludicrous

“Who—” she began.

“There’s no time! They want you! And they’re not nice!” he exclaimed, grabbing her arm and pulling her into a room, slamming the door shut. “They won’t find us here. Don’t scream. Don’t yell. I know you want to. I help.”

She opened her mouth to scream, but he clapped a hand over it, begging her to listen. She pushed him away and began backing as far as she could into the room they were in, hoping to the Maker this wasn’t some kind of evil prank or a trap. The soldiers went clamoring past, grumbling about “that damn knife ear” and what they were going to do once they got a hold of her.

“We got her damned elfy friend. He was difficult to catch, too.”

“What’d you do with him?”

“Thrown him in the cells, of course. Let the inquisitor deal with him.”

“He didn’t do anything, other than stow himself in our cargo.”

“I know he stole from us: that’s all those damn elves ever do. I already put that on the report. What’s done is done.”

Luna nearly choked as she listened to them pass. Her savior patted her arm. “I’ll get him out, too. The inquisitor is kind. He will listen.”

“But… but what if they don’t…? They’ll kill him, won’t they?”

“He will listen.”

There was something in his voice that convinced her. “But what will I do? They’re searching for me, too. What happened to my other friend? He was in one of the wagons…”

“He will be fine. They’re nicer to him. Because he isn’t one of you.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just saying how they feel: not how I feel. But I can make them not feel the hate.”

“You what?”

“Hate. Hot, burning, piercing, like the sun in an already searing desert, consuming all in its path, all over predisposed notions—” he seemed to babble on.

Luna didn’t know what to think of him. What a strange boy.

“Sorry. I’ll take you to Leliana, she’ll listen.” He took her arm and rushed out of the room with her, darting this way and that as they exited the building. “Follow me.”

Luna kept her head ducked down as she followed him through the courtyard. “They can’t see us. I won’t let them. I’m Cole, by the way. They call you Luna. It’s pretty, but you hate it.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to his little quirks. He seemed almost non-human, yet he was very obviously a human by outward appearances. They climbed upwards via a staircase, and Cole led her towards a hooded figure. They turned, and met Luna’s gaze disapprovingly. “Who have you brought to me, Cole?”

“A friend. She wants to help. She’s good. Help her.” And with that he was gone.

Leliana frowned at her. “You caused quite the ruckus with the wagon caravan, my crows tell me.”

Her crows? They talked?

“I—” Luna stammered, “I wasn’t trying to… we were trying to escape the slums, to find a better—”

“Is the Inquisition just your shallow chance for a better life?”

Luna jumped slightly. “No, not at all…”

“Then tell me what you bring to us. Why I shouldn’t just hand you over to our guards and let you rot in our cells.”

“I can fight. I can steal information. I know my way around cities.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Luna tossed her small sack with her daggers in it on the table. “Fine, don’t believe me. But I know what I can do.”

All of this was so sudden, yet when faced with a life or death situation, Luna responded accordingly. She had no idea who this woman was, or why it mattered, but she knew it was probably in her best interest to appease this seemingly dangerous, red-haired woman before her.

“Can you kill?”

“Easily.”

Leliana pursed her lips and began to pace, keeping her gaze on Luna the whole time. A crow floated onto the nearby table, peering almost disapprovingly at Luna. “Your friend. Is he useful?”

“He’s the best pickpocket I know and knows more about nobles than I would ever care to. If you want information, he’ll get it. Throw a little gold his way and a roof over his head and he’ll do a lot more than you think.”

“Mm. Interesting. He’s scheduled to be put to death tomorrow.”

Luna’s stomach twisted. “To—death? But—he didn’t do anything, he—”

“He killed a guard. Snapped his neck and ran.”

Luna whinced. “Shit. Dammit, Jared.” For once in his life, she wished he adapted that passive aggressive nature that he normally had. “What of Owen? My other friend? He—”

“He’s committed himself to the army. He’s in the clear. He calmly revealed his hiding spot and made no struggle.” Leliana continued.

“So you’re telling me we would’ve been safe, if we’d stayed quiet and waited to be caught.”

“Essentially, yes.”  
            Luna slightly fumed. “Well, that’s rather difficult to do when you’re being dangled by your wrist and called a knife-ear and threatened to be someone’s sex slave. I had to defend myself. I ran. If you really care—”

“Silence.” Leliana directed her attention completely to Luna now. “Who said that to you?” She demanded to know, eyes snapping dark as she leaned on her table full of reports.

Luna nearly jumped again at just how threatening this woman could be. “A—a soldier. One of the men here. He—”

“That is unacceptable behavior. I will notify Commander Cullen immediately. Are you aware what the man looked like?”

Luna wasn’t sure what to do with all this sudden support she was receiving. “I—yes, I suppose I could.”

“Good. I’m going to bring you before the war council. I’m going to bring up the fact you were wrongly treated. The Inquisition is a place of acceptance, not the rabble that Orlais and Ferelden get themselves tangled up in. Come with me.”

Luna repositioned her hood further over her ears and sheathed her daggers at her sides. The colder breeze seemed to tangle its way into Luna’s silvery locks, biting through her torn cloak and reawaking her to the concept that she was here—in Skyhold.

Leliana waved away the wary guards as she led Skyhold’s new guest through hallways, finally leading her into a dome-like room and shutting the door behind them.

And that’s when she saw him.

“Commander Cullen, this is Luna. Josephine, Luna.”

“I—ahem, I’m honored to meet you both.” She flushed at her hiccup.

Commander Cullen nodded his greeting while Josephine gushed “Oh! You must be the reason our guards are so on edge today—welcome! I was almost concerned you’d met the same fate as your friend, in the cells…”

My, how word traveled quickly. One second she was hiding in a cargo box, another she was running from her life from guards, and now here she was standing in the war room before some of the most powerful members of the Inquisition.

Cullen looked at her up and down, doing his best to remain inconspicuous. She kept her arms crossed and close to her. “I apologize greatly for the intrusion… my two companions and I…we were just trying to find a new life. I had suggested to my friend—who’s currently in the cells down below—that we formally ask to join the Inquisition, but he didn’t think we’d be accepted. We are, after all, just the outcome of the Dalish slums…” her voice trailed off.

“Your one friend is not Dalish. Did he grow up with you?” The commander asked, brow slightly furrowed.

“Yes. He would have joined the local army, but… Jared and I had nothing except theft to work with.”

“Well, I have to say I’m impressed by his current state… I wouldn’t have noticed that he was a new addition until I realized he wasn’t in the typical armor of the army.” The commander circled around the table, keeping his eyes on her. “What do you bring to us?”

“I can fight. I can steal—information, caravans, cargo, anything. While I may not be useful on the front lines, I’ve spent a large amount of time with assassin guilds. I’ve worked with a few political figures as one of their personal assassins for a short time. I’ve fought alongside soldiers in our local garrison. I can use a sword and a dagger. I can shoot a bow.”

Cullen seemed impressed, crossing his arms. He wasn’t sure what to think of this pale but pretty, broody girl before him. Something about her unsettled him, but he wasn’t sure what exactly it was. The concept of death was definitely a concept close to her: her arms were dense but slender, floating near the daggers at her sides. She avoided all direct eye contact with him, almost uncomfortably so. Cullen had always made it clear that he wanted the Inquisition to be a place of help and a place of opportunity, however he felt as if this elf would be far more trouble than she was worth. Stowed away in a crate, and with her a deadly pickpocket and a dead soldier? Although she was definitely nice to look at… Cullen shook the idea out of his head.

“Will you be a problem?”

Luna’s breath caught in her throat. “I’m sorry?”

“Will you be a problem?” He repeated. “You’ve been here not an hour and you’ve riled up my soldiers, killed one—”  
            “I will not take responsibility for Jared’s knee-jerk reaction.” She snapped. “I will claim him as my companion and nothing more. Perhaps you should be better about who you allow into your armies, considering I’ve not been here an hour and I’ve been called a knife-ear and dangled like a carcass.”

Cullen’s brow furrowed as he stopped an arms’ length away from her.

“She was mistreated immediately upon arrival, Commander Cullen. She claims she can point the soldier out to us if given the chance. I believe her.” Leliana spoke up for the girl, the cold air nearly steaming around her seething body.

Cullen softened as he instinctively looked away and brought a hand up to the back of his neck. He knew how bad the soldiers sometimes got, and he knew that sometimes a few bad ones still made it into the batch. While he knew he could not control everything, he still felt a pang of guilt for immediately accusing the girl of murder without hearing her story first. “I will bring my armies together and question them, m’lady. I—apologize.”

Luna looked away from him, arms crossed tighter.

 _Damn_ he cursed inwardly.

“Come, Luna,” Leliana brought a gentle hand to her shoulder, “I will have Dorian show you around, since he’s not doing anything, as per usual.”

The doors opened behind them, and a well-dressed but gaudy Tevinter mage entered. “Dorian, at your service.” His mustache twitched upwards as he bowed slightly. “I must say, I’m impressed at the ruckus you caused—oh good you’re an elf. Diversity is a wonderful thing, no?” He immediately took her by the arm. “Come, come. I have people that would love to meet you.”

“Keep Sera away from her.” Josephine hissed.

“Sera makes her own decisions: I don’t dare disturb her conquests.” Dorian laughed as they exited.

“Who’s Sera?” Luna inquired.

“Another elf. Loves women. Very good with a bow. Has a horrible drinking problem and will probably cheat you out of your entire purse. Has an interesting taste in women. Don’t worry, she doesn’t like her own kind so I assume Josephine’s concerns are very empty, if you ask me.” Dorian rambled as they entered the main hall, full of questionable nobles bustling about their daily business and getting ready to close down for the day. “So tell me about yourself. Gods you’re so damn pale: do you not get sun wherever you’re from? Have you tried eating anytime recently? You’re a pretty little thing to look at but men—eugh, I wouldn’t bother with the men here. Stay as thin as you’d like, dear.”

Luna blinked several times as Dorian seemed to answer his own questions, saving her the effort of needing to speak at all.

“You’re a damned quiet thing. Guess that’s better, since listening to myself talk is a wonderful thing.”

“You’re very amusing, and probably my most favorite person here so far, so I don’t mind.”

Dorian lit up at this compliment, walking a little faster down the stairs from the courtyard. “And I already love you. A compliment? From one of the prettiest little elves? I couldn’t be happier. Really, you’ll be loved here. Commander Frowny Fuck has no idea what he’s missing.”

“Commander…what?”

“Cullen. Name dubbed by me.”

“I assumed it wasn’t his idea to be called that…”

They entered a tavern, the place buzzing with warmth and the smell of cheap ale.

“Boys! Come say hi!”

A qunari perched at the bar rose from his seat, his laugh booming across the inn. “I’ll be damned, Vint, did you actually bring a girlfriend?”

“No, no, gods no, but I’m sure she’s great fun. I mean look at her!”

Luna giggled. But her thoughts immediately went back to Jared. “Hey, Dorian… my friend. He’s still in the cells, they’re gonna—”

“They’re letting him out, don’t worry your pretty little head any. I talked with the head guard.” He patted her shoulder, leading her to a seat at the bar.

“Thanks for the introduction, Sparkles.”

Luna cocked her head at the individual speaking. “A…dwarf? But where’s your—”

“I know, I know, no beard. But I make up for it with my stories and humor, I promise.” He chuckled. “Varric, at your service.”

“Pleased to meet you, all of you. And you are…?” Luna motioned at the Qunari.

“Iron Bull. Bull for short. What do they call you?” He motioned for another drink from the bartender.

“Luna. It’s not much, I know.”

“Hell, you’re nearly my height, I know it’s not much.” Varric chortled.

Luna glared down at him. “Your mother drop you down a flight of stairs, too?”

Varric choked on his ale. “Maker, it’s because of my lack of beard isn’t it?”

“Enough!” Iron Bull clapped, “I want to see her drink. I want to know if I have any competition.” He slid the goblet full of ale towards her. “Drink! Drink!”

Luna grabbed the goblet and slugged the entire thing down with a grin, Iron Bull and Varric watching her. She wiped her mouth off with her sleeve, giggling at the same time. “Can I have another?”

Varric nodded at the bartender, sliding another one towards her. “This one’s on me.”

Iron Bull was clapping, slogging down his ale before pounding the bar with his cup. “She HAS to stay! She must stay! She’s one of us now!”

Another cup turned into two, into three, into four, until Luna had completely lost count of her goblets, let alone her fingers.

She hiccupped, swaying on her stool at the bar. “I—I don’t remember—hic—how much I—hic—drank, fuck.”

Iron Bull was slowly but surely finishing probably his tenth goblet. “All I know is… you’ve kept up with me so far, and that’s –gulp—impressive.”

Varric had to stand next to Luna, the stool being too far off the ground for him at this point. “Do you even know where you’re sleeping, little one?”

“Little? I’ll—hic—fuckin show you who’s—hic—little.” Luna stammered, nearly falling off her seat.

“Calm down before you hurt yourself, little wren. Dorian.”

“Hrrphmh.”

“Wake up, you damn lightweight. Take the girl to her room before she drinks herself into a damn stupor.”

Dorian slowly rose from his nap at the bar, his hair tousled and the corners of his mouth stained with wine. “Come, my flower, I’ll show you your room.”

He teetered as he rose, taking her hand and stumbling away with her. “Should I be concerned?” Varric called after them.

“No, no I may be a lightweight but I’m not sauced, you naked mole rat.” Dorian wheezed, gripping Luna’s hand tightly as they emerged into the cold evening air. “I hope you don’t mind, but—Dorian yawned—your room is right next to our most _esteemed_ grumpus Wumpus asshole Commander Cullen.”

“Wait, you’re fucking with me.” Luna pulled away as they went up the stairs towards her room. “I’m actually right next to his office?” Her stomach rose into her throat as she recalled their tense meeting earlier.

“Oh come now he won’t disturb you when you’re in your room. All he ever does is read those damn reports and snap at his messengers and talk in his sleep. Fever dreams, from the lyrium.”

“ _Maker_ , I’d rather fucking sleep—hic—outside!” Luna groaned as Dorian dragged her up the stairs. “Fuck he’s _so nice_ to look at but he’s painfully _tense_! Dorian please, _please_ don’t make me sleep in the room next to his office—”

“Sweetheart, I really don’t think you’d like to sleep with the other women here, and you really can’t sleep with me, people would make assumptions. Now if you would, go make yourself at home and pretend the tense nasty commander isn’t in the room next to you.” Dorian pushed her into the room and shut the door behind her.

 _Phooey_ Luna hissed, stumbling her way over to the bed. A single candle burned at the bedside table, a tub full of hot water steaming nearby. The window near the bed was slightly open, the curtains fluttering in the evening breeze. It was a cute room, at least. Plenty of space for absolutely no reason, as she brought nothing with her from home, but still nice nonetheless. She plopped herself on the bed, still dizzy from the alcohol.

She soon fell right over into bed, taking her clothes off lazily and flinging them across the room as sleep began to pull at her eyelids. The image of the scar faced commander still lingered in her mind as she faded away, much to her frustration. How could someone so nice to look at still be such an ass? She clutched the blankets closer to her breasts and allowed sleep to take over.

Meanwhile, in the commander’s own bed, he couldn’t rid his mind of the pale elf from earlier. It frustrated him that something so seemingly wild and feral had captured his attention so easily; the little slits on her breeches seemed to catch his eye the most, aggravatingly enough. She was a hired hand; an assassin; a misguided thief: nothing more. But for some reason, he couldn’t convince himself of that. Her eyes glittered under her hood, almost poking fun at him as she angrily sputtered the story regarding the soldier and how he mistreated her. Her temper was there, no doubt, but he felt mildly attracted to her fiery yet illusive behavior. He wondered how soft her skin was under the rough tunic she donned that day, tight and clinging to her flushed skin like her breeches. He shook his head to rid himself of the thought.

No, no, there was no way that he, the commander of the Inquisition’s armies, could be thinking of a new recruit like this. Imagining himself with her was ludicrous in of itself: a hired hand with a Templar? He nearly snorted at the thought as he turned over and tried to ignore the throbbing member in his pants.

 

Early morning came and the army began to rise for their exercises. Cullen rose with a groan, nearly creaking like his floorboards with how early it was. _Another day, another bout of damned training._ He knew none of this would last: he just needed to last long enough to defeat Corypheus and rid Thedas of this archdemon. However, the early mornings were starting to take their toll on him.

Meanwhile, Luna opened her eyes to the sound of soldiers and their movements, grumblings high in the air as they complained about having to be up so early. The air was crisp, and it slithered in through her open window as she sat up.

It couldn’t hurt to go watch. Perhaps she’d find Owen. She rummaged through the dresser nearby, eventually pulling out a soft white tunic and black breeches.

“Yoohoo, delivery for you.” Dorian burst in, dumping and simultaneously flinging pieces of armor everywhere on the floor. “Try any of these pieces on, they’re yours now, courtesy of the Inquisition—gods do you even TRY to heal your wounds before they scar? You’re so damned small you’ll run out of room for them.”

Luna flushed as she realized she was still in her smallclothes, her skin tight and goosefleshed from the cold. “Well maybe if you’d fucking _knock_ you wouldn’t have to look.”

“Luna, dear, just try on the damn armor and tell me if it fits or not so Leliana stops making me play messenger.” Dorian sighed, turning away to sift through her bookcase instead. “Not sure why they’d give you a whole bookcase… _can_ you even read? Oh for gods’ sake don’t look at me like that, it’s a reasonable question.”

She huffed and picked up the articles from the floor.

Several minutes after trial and error, she found that the chest piece and gauntlets she’d tried on fit her quite well. The thigh pieces were good; a little snug, but they were still good for their purpose. The boots looked heavy but felt lighter than anything she’d ever worn, regardless.

Dorian turned from complaining about the book selection in her room and clapped, clasping his hands in front of his face. “I’m almost touched: baby’s first set of armor. Good, too, now you don’t look like a cutpurse!”

Luna rolled her eyes at him and laughed, pulling her hood back over her ears and hair. “There’s even a spot for my hood and cloak: I couldn’t be more pleased.”

“You know people are going to whisper about how you won’t take that damn hood off.”

“People can mind their business, really.”  
            “Fair. Well I’ll let you get to whatever you were doing: come see me in the library, I get bored of reading the same things over and over again with nobody to complain to.” And with that he was gone.

Luna slipped outside, noticing the nippy air was starting to warm as the day progressed. She leaned over the battlement, feeling the cold cobblestone beneath her palms as she shivered. It felt good to be here—strange, nonetheless, but good. Her breath was very visible, her cloak fluttering behind her. Her ears perked to the commander shouting orders as she watched the soldiers beginning to pour out of the barracks in a swarm. The Commander seemed just as tense as he gave orders, the furs on his shoulders giving him this almost regal look—albeit gaudy. Reports were clasped in his gloved hands as the soldiers got into formation, a few rubbing the sleep out of their eyes.

Luna pulled herself over the battlement and plopped down, her legs dangling over the sides as she watched them with a sort of interest. She hoped to see Owen: she knew he was alright, that much was obvious, but she wanted to make sure he was fitting in with the environment he yearned for all those years in the slums. She shakily stood and craned her neck, scanning the neat lines of soldiers looking for a head full of thick, curly brunette hair as she balanced herself on the wall. The wind caught her cloak and forced her to sit to avoid falling, but she swore she saw him as they rushed to fall into formations, splitting up into groups to practice different sword techniques. _I’m sure he's having the time of his life… he’ll be fine…_ she gently reminded herself, still hoping she’d get another glimpse of him before breakfast.

“You’re awake.” A familiar voice startled her in her silent search.

She turned to find Cole standing there, hair still stringy and eyes somehow distant.

“Yes… did you want something?”

He took a step towards her, awkwardly stopping as he avoided eye contact with her. “You worry that the war will take him away, too, don’t you?”

She cocked her head. “I don’t think I unders—”

“Cold. Dead. Distant. Blood, blood everywhere. So many arrows, like a hunted animal Hanging onto his hand like he’s the last bit of family you ever knew. It’s why…why you begged him to stay…” Cole started to back away. “I’m— sorry… I only try to help.”

Luna slid off the battlement and peered closely at him. “How the hell do you know about that?” The memory panged her in the back of her mind as she took a step towards him.

Owen had taken a risky contract from a noble, during a time where none of them had any money and food was hard to come by. He’d been gone a week, until she stole a horse and went to find him herself. He was dying in a forest, his back full of arrows and his entire party dead. The memory of him choking on his own blood as he clutched to her arms, begging her to put him out of his misery. His eyes nearly white in agony, his face veiny from the amount of pain he was facing. They’d been ambushed, and had she not gone to look for him… he’d definitely been dead. This sparked her immediate fear of him going off to join the army: the fear that she’d never get to see her “older brother” again. She feared anything and everything would take him away, and the fact he’d joined the Inquisition’s army was no better, but she knew it was something he wanted. She wanted him happy, but she feared that something would swoop in and snatch him away from her.

Either way: how did Cole know?

“Cole. You’re going to fucking tell me how the hell you know this. I won’t—” but he was gone.

And for the life of her, she couldn’t remember who she’d been talking to. _I…I was talking to someone, right? They were just right…here…?_ She shook her head to settle her nerves. Was she just seeing things? Her mind seemed empty, like a piece of it had been taken away.

She went back to sitting on the side of the battlement, watching the training exercises with a now disinterested gaze and a furrowed brow.

An hour lazily passed before she finally saw Owen’s curly mane in the midst of the training groups. He always towered amongst everyone back home, but the men he was training with seemed to be even taller than he was. He hopped backwards while branding a shield, his blade clutched in his other hand. Sweat beaded on his brow in the morning sun, his curls sloppily pulled back from his face as he dodged and tumbled away from his opponent’s blows. “You, there! The battlefield is no place for fancy moves! Practice dodging and stop flipping, this isn’t a damned circus!” Cullen barked at him. Owen shrugged and continued sparring.

Luna leapt from her spot on the battlement and came pittering down the courtyard steps, her cloak unfurled behind her. “Owen!” she called out, diving headfirst into the groups of sparring soldiers. “Owen, hey!” She slithered and ducked her way through the sea of soldiers, dodging a shield here and parrying a blade there as she made her way to him. Some of the men stopped their training to turn and look at her, the whispers of the tiny rogue already on their lips. She ignored their gazes and only focused on reaching her older brother, her eyes glistening as she ran towards him.

Owen quickly blocked a blow from his sparring opponent and turned his gaze to see who was calling after him so fiercely. His face softened as he watched Luna meander her way over to him, ducking a swinging blade gracefully as she plunged headfirst into his arms. He responded by dropping his sword and shield and hugging her close, laughing at her usual boldness. “Luna, dear girl, this is no place for you.” He hissed, holding her close while avoiding the eye contact of the other men in the area. “You’re causing a scene.”

“Ah fuck ME for wanting to hug my older brother and make sure he was perfectly alright, hmm?” Luna snorted, her nose slightly wrinkling at how he reeked of sweat and leather, although a familiar scent to her. “Look at _you_ ,” she giggled, “some mighty brawny soldier for the Inquisition now, with your sword and shield. Your mother would have an entire cow, seeing you like this.”

Owen threw his head back in a laugh. “Well, yes, she would, if she didn’t have me first and die in the process.”

Cullen cleared his throat firmly. It seemed to resonate in every ear on the battlefield, causing the whispering and jeering to stop nearly instantly. “Lady Luna, if you’re so willing to disturb us during our training, perhaps you’d be just as willing to join us, then?” His tone was cold, and very sarcastic.

The raging headache was hot in his temples at this hour. He’d been massaging his head all morning, wishing for something to take the pain away: alas, now he was faced with the same rogue from yesterday evening, just when he thought things couldn’t get more annoying or aggravating. The new recruits were difficult, today. Half of them were shoddy with following orders, and that Owen boy seemed to be more set on showing off his agility instead of actually training. Luna’s sole existence seemed to be far more interesting than the training routines he had scheduled.

Maker, he could use a nap.

Luna turned swiftly to look at him, her gaze defiant and her hands planted firmly on her hips. “Ah yes, the _touchy_ grumpy commander in the fucking flesh, I see. I’m tickled, really.” The men around her did their best to muffle their laughter, some turning away entirely to avoid looking at the commander, who was starting to flush red in the cheeks. “Maker you’ve got a stick so far up your ass you can’t wear hats; have you tried loosening up?” Luna kept going, taking a few defiant, animated stomps towards him.

Cullen couldn’t help but notice the fire in her eyes, their tone icy yet piercing on this hot morning. Her cheekbones were sunken and defined, adding further to her stare that seemed to stab right through him. He would’ve probably taken her far more seriously, if she wasn’t so small he had to bend his head down to look at her. Yet he knew just how much anger and how much vim this girl held: he certainly would never want to test her resolve, should things come down to it.

“No, Miss Luna, I have _not_ tried loosening up, as people who loosen up are typically easier to _kill_.” He responded dryly, rubbing a temple with his fingertips. “But if you’re so insistent upon sassing me this fine morning, take your stance.” He drew his blade.

“Wait, hang on, take my—oh, shit.” Luna squeaked as she instinctively whipped her daggers out. “I didn’t ask for this!”

Cullen readied his shield, swiftly charging towards her with it as she rolled out of the way. The surrounding soldiers backed away until the commander and the tiny, pale rogue were in a wide circle by themselves. Owen attempted to dive in and pull her away but several of the recruits pulled him back and held him away from her. “Luna!”

Luna looked backwards towards him, her expression excited yet fearful as she gripped her daggers fiercely by her sides. Her heart raced in her chest as she skillfully dodged most of Cullen’s blows and subtly took jabs at his armor. They seemed to dance, circling one another and weaving in and out of each other’s blows. Cullen went in for a swift swing, his shield rushing upwards and knocking one of her daggers loose. Luna cursed under her breath as she felt her wrist swell from the blow. That would need to be iced later. She still firmly gripped the dagger in her other hand, using her left hand for balance as she ducked his second blow and curved the flat of her blade behind his shield, snapping it out of his hands and leaving him without it.

The soldiers murmured as his shield fell to the ground: she held much more skill than imagined.

However, Luna started to feel her hands become incredibly warm, almost with a burning sensation. _Shit_ she cursed inwardly, ducking another blow. _Now is not the time. Now is not the damned time_ she mentally screamed, doing her best to concentrate on holding the energy in her veins whilst also dodging the commander. Beads of frustrated sweat drizzled down her back as she felt her hands rising in temperature, her bloodstream feeling like it was boiling in her veins.

Owen noticed her change in expression almost instantly. _Oh no_. _They have to stop; she’ll—she’ll…_ Owen refused to think about what would happen if she lost control, like last time.

The last time he had to hide her in the woods like a rabid dog so the Circle wouldn’t come take her away, paying off every noble in the vicinity with every coin in his bag so they wouldn’t talk about his little sister. It was just a merchant that took too much of a liking for her: he grabbed her arm, and with no weapon nearby, her hands suddenly grew hot and burnt the merchant’s flesh in only a few seconds. “Freak!” he had screamed, pulling away from her and nursing his charred skin. “Freak! Get away!” Owen had snatched her up without a word and disappeared. She was far too young to understand, then. He didn’t think she even fully understood now.

The fight continued, yet Owen wasn’t the only one who noticed the slight disturbance in Luna’s demeanor. It was almost like the air shifted, like something in the weather snapped. Cullen circled her yet again, blade outstretched, yet this time he observed her face. She seemed to be in a sense of pain, her hands shaking as she held one dagger professionally and wiped her other hand on her tunic, as if trying to get rid of a stain. Something buzzed and hummed in his ears, as if…

He shook the feeling away. There was no way that she was a mage: he would’ve noticed it earlier.  

He dove in for another blow, catching her completely off guard and knocking the last dagger from her hand.  
            It was at that moment that Luna’s hands exploded in a ball of electric inferno, her scream cutting the morning air in half. The blinding magic was hot and piercing as Cullen instinctively leapt backwards to avoid the explosion, yelling for the soldiers to get back.

Owen jumped right in, arms outstretched as he towered over her to protect her. “Stay the fuck away from her! All of you! Back away!’ he barked, “She’s not a threat, I promise!”

Luna wheezed as she tried to bury her hands in her stomach, the magic begging to be released while her head spun in a disarray of static. She felt no pain, yet she couldn’t stop it from seeping from her like water. Her fear had been sparked after the second dagger was thrown from her hands. It was almost an instinct, as if she feared something terrible would happen to her right after that moment. That’s what triggered the magic, still dripping from her hands like icicles on a hot day. She still knelt, almost too ashamed to look up at the piercing gazes around her.

“Luna… Luna, little sister, are you alright?” Owen knelt next to her, gently shaking her.

“I—” she stammered, “I need to go. Far away. Leave me alone.” She hastily and shakily stood, taking off in the nearest and safest direction towards her room. She was humiliated; angry; winded. This hadn’t happened in years: why now?

Owen grabbed her arm, trying to keep her near him. “Luna, no, we need to talk—”

“Leave me alone!” she choked, pulling her hood further over her eyes as she wrenched herself away from him, stumbling away and taking off towards her quarters. She refused to look back or around her, her legs carrying her swiftly away from her shame.

Owen froze as she took off, his hand still shaky as it hung where her arm used to be. “L-Luna… dammit…” he sighed as he turned to face Cullen.

The commander’s expression was stern. “Come with me in my office, Owen… I have questions. The rest of you, keep training. I will check your progress tomorrow.”

Owen dragged his feet as he followed from behind, his gaze still lingering in the direction Luna took off in. He hoped she was at least okay… maybe the friends she made last night would help her, because Maker knows he never could. She would just lock herself up like she always did and pretend nothing ever happened.

Cullen walked into his office and shut it firmly behind once Owen entered. “How long has she been like that?”

“Since… since she was 6. She blew up a shed on accident in a fit of anger.”

“And nobody ever trained her? The circle didn’t take her?”

“They…tried. More than once. We had Templars scour the slums more than once to try and find her. I…I hid her in the forest nearby. I’d have her drink a potion the herbalist made so it’d make the magic in her blood less noticeable. It’d make her sleep for a few days. Then they’d leave her alone again… Please, commander, I didn’t want her to leave me and Jared and everything she’d known for some tower full of crazy Templars that would just watch her like a caged animal. She deserved a happy life. She—”

“Owen. She can’t control her own magic. That’s a _problem_. That’s a _danger._ ” He spat, slamming his palms into his desk and leaning forward. “How am I supposed to allow Leliana to keep her here when she can’t even control her own magic on the battlefield? What if she explodes like that again? She’ll hurt our own men and—”

“Get someone to train her. Please, I’m begging you, she’s all I have.” Owen begged, his hands starting to shake as he searched the commander’s face for any iota of mercy. “She’s just a girl. She just needs help. I can’t help her, but maybe you can, maybe someone can. She’ll listen if you help her, she’s damned stubborn and hates instruction but she’ll damn well listen.”

“Owen, I’ll try. I’ll talk to the others. But right now, despite how good of a fighter she is, she’s an actual danger. I—”

“You’ll not treat her like one.” Owen cut him off, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“What was that, recruit?”

“She’s spent her whole life getting spat at for being Dalish and pushed aside for being a lowly ‘assassin’ that just skitters away after she’s received her payment. She’s better than that. You’ve seen how good of a fighter she is. But no, you won’t see anything past the fact she’s also an untrained mage.” Owen snarled, “I’ve seen how your kind look at mages. They look at them like damned animals, like unpredictable beasts that should be locked up and displayed at a fucking circus. My Luna isn’t an animal—she’s one of the most gifted people I’ve grown up with, and you won’t give her a damn chance.” Angry tears welled up in his eyes, his fists shaking at his sides.

Cullen paused, looking over Owen’s tense face before he began to pace. The headache was definitely worse now, but he had to make a decision.

Luna could most certainly not be left to her own demise. She would, no doubt, accidentally blow up Skyhold, worst case, or kill a soldier. That would make the Inquisition look bad: they already had enough trouble with the mages being their main ally. A wild untrained mage—essentially an apostate—would make matters worse. At the same time… he couldn’t bring himself to simply wave his hand and banish her from Skyhold.

He wanted to put his head through a wall as he realized how enamored he was with her while they sparred. Her fluid movements, her mischievous yet twinkling eyes as she successfully wrenched the shield out of his hand, the way she flitted and darted from his every swing… she’d giggle every time she successfully landed a blow, cursing something profane whenever she’d be knocked back. Her hood had fallen off of her locks, revealing her pointed ears and almost marble-like skin. One would’ve assumed her a ghost with how fluidly she moved.

 _Cullen… for fucks’ sake_ he cursed at himself, bringing himself back to the pleading boy before him.

Dorian and Solas. Yes, that was it. He could get them to train her.

“Owen. Return to your training. I must seek Dorian, the Tevinter mage, and Solas, the Rift specialist here at Skyhold… don’t worry about Luna. She will be fine.”

Owen was slightly startled at the sudden change of heart. “I…alright. I will check on her tonight. Thank you, commander, really…” He murmured as he exited, his tone hopeful.

[Later]

Dorian was thoroughly surprised to find the commander of the Inquisition approaching him in the garden on this fine afternoon, albeit somewhat aggravated that he chose _this_ particular fine day to disturb his wine and books. “No, Commander, I don’t know where the other Tevinter mages are. No, I haven’t heard back from any blood mages. No, I didn’t blow up that orphanage in Val Reyoux.” He lazily drawled, still nose deep in his book, leg draped over the side of his chair.

“Dorian, that’s not even close to what I’m here for.” Cullen growled.

“Cullen, dear man, I will never understand how you _still_ manage to be this tense on such a fine afternoon as this. Smell the roses; snort them if it helps; anything at this point.” Dorian tossed his book away and stood, stretching freely.

“It’s about Luna. I need your help. She’s—”

“Capable of magic?” Dorian finished for him.

Cullen raised an eyebrow at him.

“Cullen, you really didn’t think that magical explosion in the middle of the fucking training grounds could be kept quiet, did you?” Dorian laughed, bending over slightly, “Vivienne even came out of her perch to look! The entire court knows about it. Solas has been racking his bald little head for hours trying to figure out how to approach her without scaring her. She’s basically a field mouse if you move too quickly. Very, very good with her daggers, though, I will say…”

“That’s why I need your help.” Cullen replied, taking a seat nearby. “She’s untrained. She needs your help. I can’t keep her here in good faith without knowing she’s being taught to control all of that magic. She could…you know…”

“Blow the place up? Figure out blood magic? Make the ground open up and swallow all of us?” Dorian scoffed, “Cullen, please, if a small fiery explosion of a few seconds is the most of her current ability I’d be thankful.”

“She’s still a danger!”

Dorian bristled. “Have you ever, you know, tried looking at her as an individual that needs help, before looking at her as just a ‘danger’?” his tone was rough, “Or does being a Templar require that you absolutely _must_ treat every individual with magic like a rabid dog? I swear, you damned Templars would forget about your dicks if they weren’t attached, but the minute you see a drop of magic—sound the fucking alarms!” Dorian began to flail his arms mockingly, skipping in a circle around Cullen’s seat, “Hide your children and your wives! There’s a _normal damned person_ in the streets! Can’t have that!”

“Dorian, I didn’t come here to have you mock me. Will you help her or not?” Cullen’s gaze darkened.

Dorian stopped dead in his tracks in front of him and leaned very close to the commander, hands on his knees. “I will help her—on one condition. You treat her like a normal person. None of this ‘I need someone guarding her room’ or any of this magic-fearing nonsense. You want her to feel at home here? You want her to want to help the Inquisition? Then start with that.” And with that he turned on his heel to head towards Luna’s quarters.

Cullen sighed deeply, rubbing his temples with his palms again. Such a small girl, yet such a massive problem.

Luna had pulled every blanket from the dresser in her room and piled them on top of her, knotting herself into them as she sobbed into her bed. She punched her headboard over and over until her knuckles bloodied and splattered everywhere. The pain made her forget about the cold yet burning sensation floating beneath her skin. She felt nauseous, like something had punched her in the gut over and over again. _I’m a goddamn monster_ she screamed inwardly, still punching her headboard like it would undo everything that just happened.

“Luna? Luna, my dear flower, please stop sobbing and let me in.”

It was Dorian.

“Go away, Dorian!” she hiccupped, barely emerging from her blanket mound. “Leave me alone!”

He sighed exasperatedly from behind the door. Within a few seconds she heard a few clicks and a pop as Dorian opened her door anyway, standing in its frame for a second before walking in. “Listen to me, please, I can help—”

“ _I said leave me alone!_ ” she lurched from her nest, hands outstretched to choke as bolts of lightning snapped towards Dorian. He calmly shielded himself with a swipe of his right hand, the bolts dissolving into smoke.

Luna fell to her knees, her knuckles still pouring with blood. “I—I—fuck. Dorian, I—”

“This is _precisely_ why you need help, my dear.” Dorian knelt and began wrapping her knuckles with a torn piece of material, “And help is what I can provide.”

“Maybe I should’ve gone to the Circle…” she sighed, “This… it all just flares up every couple years. I…I don’t know what to do with it. I’m no mage…”

“You don’t have to exactly be one, dear. Your case is incredibly unique. I’ll teach you how to channel your magic. The reason all of this flares up is because you were never taught to control it. So please, stop crying, and stop punching your headboard… you’re going to end up breaking something and then you’ll be able to do nothing.” Dorian pulled her up from her knees, dusting her off and rubbing her back. “Now, how about you go clean up and we’ll have our first lesson today?”

Luna nodded with a sniff and disappeared into the wash room.

[on the training grounds]

“Alright, dear. Now… focus on that strawman target in front of you.” Dorian crossed his arms, standing beside Luna.

“What…do you mean?”

“I literally mean focus on it. Don’t think about anything else: except that pitiful little bag of straw with a face drawn on it.”

Luna shut her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm her raging heartbeat and her blood that seemed to boil within her.

“Clear your mind. Think only of the energy in your veins. Try to—”

“ _Dorian I think I’m on fire!”_

Dorian immediately defused the fire in her clothes, sighing. It would be a long day.

Hours of training passed and Dorian thought he’d explode with the number of times she broke down sobbing and caught everything else on fire except the small figurine. She’d even managed to explode a tree on the other side of the bridge to Skyhold. He was almost impressed. He’d tried books, tomes, demonstrations… even blew up the small straw figurine himself out of frustration, before putting up another one.

“Luna, you stupid flower, I love you, I really do, but I’m afraid—”

The smell of burning straw immediately filled the air as fire engulfed the tiny figure.

Dorian blinked a few times, somewhat in disbelief that he himself was not also on fire. “…my dear?”

“Is that it?” Luna wheezed, her face nearly drained of color. Sure enough, she’d actually managed to use her magic on the dummy in front of her, instead of the entirety of Skyhold.

“…sweetheart, I do believe you’ve done it. It only took you—” he glanced at the sun, “eight hours to do a basic spell. But you’ve done it, and I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Is…is it possible to put this energy into weapons?” Luna referred to the daggers in their sheaths at her sides, still panting from the day’s training.

Dorian cocked his head slightly. “Well, yes, I know Knight Enchanters used to perform feats like that, but I—Luna what are you doing?”

She had her weapons in her hands now, staring at them intently as they seemed to steam with a red glow. The sweat from her forehead dripped down onto them, hissing upon contact. Her eyes gleamed like coals. Without a word, she charged towards the smoldering straw figure, blades behind her.

Dorian blinked.

The charred figurine was now in cleanly sliced pieces, littered behind Luna as she knelt panting. “I…I get it. I think I get it.”

The Tevinter mage couldn’t find words to formulate his disbelief. He took a few steps forward, observing the damage.

“Do—do you think I could use this? In battle? Dorian please say something, did I do something wrong?”

“No, dear, I’m honestly just surprised that you were able to figure this out in a matter of hours. I’m pleased, really. Positively pickled.” He helped her up, for seemingly the thousandth time. “But I do believe you deserve a drink in the tavern. Come join me and Bull—I promised him hours ago I’d join him. You can practice on the battlefield. We can only burn so many things without pissing off soldiers.”

As the two headed towards the tavern, Cullen calmly breathed a sigh of relief up on the battlements. He’d been watching them both on and off for the past few hours, his hands clenched within their gloves as he did his best to focus on the constant flow of reports coming his way. Solas had worried him greatly, while he was watching alongside him earlier. “She’s too far gone. She’s better off being sent away. You can’t risk this. Dorian is a fool for even trying.” He had sighed, shaking his head as he disappeared into his quarters. “Leliana was a fool for letting her stay. I’m disappointed in the both of you. This isn’t the Circle. This is the Inquisition, and the Inquisition has no place for untrained apostates.”

Cullen clenched his jaw at his words, absentmindedly crumpling a report in his right hand. _And I’m disappointed that you couldn’t give her a chance, Solas._

The headache had somewhat resided. For this, he was thankful. But he was still confused and equally parts frustrated at the infatuation that he had with her, yet he was so terrible at relaying it. He remained chilled towards her with every encounter. But his heart twinged every time he saw her eyes fall, or whenever she seemed to wilt under his disapproving glare. Josephine had caught him staring after her, doing his best not to follow her shapely hips or her curvy figure before receiving a swift slap on the wrist. “You know better” she had chided.

He smashed a hand over his face, pulling at it in frustration.

“Luna, Luna, Luna. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Varric chortled, “Now I need to find a nickname for you that _isn’t_ Flower, or some shit like that.”

“Flower is a _wonderful_ nickname, thank you very much, you hairless rat.” Dorian harrumphed, glaring fiercely down at him.

“Sparkles, I never said it was a terrible nickname. I just don’t want to call her Flower: I mean look at her.”

“A rogue, _and_ a mage? Have you tried a sword and shield, too?” Iron Bull laughed, leaning back in his seat. “I swear Dorian was going to rip his wrists open and sacrifice himself, with how veiny his neck got while he trained you!”

“I would’ve slit my wrists too, honestly.” Luna sighed before guzzling down a tankard full of ale. “I definitely wanted to earlier, after acting a fool in front of the commander…”

“Oh?” Varric leaned in closer to her, “Why the commander in particular, hm?”

Luna tried to maintain her focus on the tankard being refilled in front of her. “Go away, Varric.”

“I’m just curious, little wren. You spat fire about him last night, yet—”

“He’s nice to look at, nothing more.” She snapped, downing another tankard. Her cheeks were starting to feel incredibly hot and she hated it.

“That’s what they _all_ say, dear. Drink some more and then tell us how you really feel when you’re ready.” Dorian sighed, sipping his wine idly.  

“Where’s Jared? And Owen?”

“Owen is in the barracks. He’ll check on you later tonight. Jared is currently not allowed to roam the grounds until he has a meeting with the Inquisitor, but he will join you soon. Don’t worry about it.” Varric soothed.

Meanwhile, across the tavern a couple pairs of eyes were glaring wildly at the girl.

“Isn’t that the knife ear that we caught in our wagons?” one snarled.

“Sure is. Drinking from our tavern, acting like she’s one of us.” Another replied, drunk and slurring. “If I had it my way I’d throw her in the cells with her friend. Tie her up, take her back to my room so she’d finally be fucking useful.”

The first man laughed maniacally. “I mean, you still could: just wait until she’s sauced and then catch her when she’s walking out to her quarters. She won’t do anything then.”

His companion finished the rest of his drink, wiping it off with his sleeve. “You’re a damned genius.” He chuckled, “I’ll do just that. I’m about to have a wonderful evening.”

Meanwhile, Cole had been listening from his spot on the second floor this entire time. He was disturbed deeply by their thoughts, and knew he couldn’t handle this on his own. He needed to find someone, and fast. The others were too drunk to be of any protection to her.

He scurried to the window nearby, and leaned out to see if Cassandra was outside in her usual spot. She wasn’t. He skittered to the other window, hoping to see maybe—Cullen. Cullen was outside.

Cole disappeared from his spot and immediately reappeared next to the commander. “Cullen.”

Lost in thought, the ex-Templar instinctively drew his sword as Cole appeared. “Maker’s breath, Cole, I didn’t—”

“You need to go inside.”

“I—what?”

“Luna. Luna’s in danger. There’s two men in there—the same ones from yesterday. She want to hurt her, take her. Please, Cullen, you have to help her the others are drunk and they’d never believe—”

“Cole, you’re being paranoid. My soldiers would never.” Cullen huffed as he sheathed his sword. “You’re just hearing things again. We’ve talked about you snooping in people’s heads, too: stop that.”

The exasperated boy glared up at the commander. “I can hear their thoughts, commander—especially when they say them out loud. If I could take care of it myself I would but I know the second I confront them they won’t do anything and then _I’ll_ look like the bad guy. Please, you have to—”

“Stop, Cole. That’s an order. I won’t repeat myself.”

The dejected spirit knew he was getting nowhere. “Fine. Find out for yourself.” And he was gone.

The commander straightened himself and continued on his walk through the cold evening air, yet he stopped as he passed the tavern. Something really wasn’t right: he felt it in his gut. Was Cole onto something?

“Hey, I’m—hic—gonna go now. I swear I get sauced every single time—hic—but this is fun. Let’s do this again.” Luna giggled as she zig zagged her way to the door. The other three were far too drunk to realize she’d left, Dorian maybe fluttering his arm to wave goodbye before passing out at the bar again.

The two soldiers knew this was their chance.

One closely followed her out the door, while the other exited from the side.

She stopped briefly, the skin on the back of her neck suddenly raised. Yet nobody was behind her. Shrugging, she continued sauntering towards her quarters, her vision blurring and shaky.

Now a few meters away from the tavern, the first soldier grabbed her wrist and twisted it around her, covering her mouth with his other hand. She tried to grab her dagger, but the man pinched her other arm between him and his elbow. “Pretty, pretty girl, where do you think you’re going?” He crooned, picking her up off her feet. “How about…I take you where I want you, and let the other soldiers have a turn, hmm? I’m sure we’d _all_ like that very, very much.” Luna screamed against his hand, trying to bite at him. “Trying to bite me again?” He twisted her arm further as she yelped. “You’re fucking disgusting. We should’ve killed your people out long ago, yet here you are, breathing and wasting our resources. Pathetic. You’re fucking pathetic.”

Her legs flailed as she helplessly tried to wrench herself from his grasp, the barracks growing closer. Yet he’d twist her arm further until she swore it’d fucking break. The other soldier came to join them, a roll of rope in his hand. “If you can get her to hold still I’ll tie her.” He chuckled, “Then she really won’t move.”

Luna was pinned down on the ground, still trying to scream as the other soldier began tying her hands behind her, both of them laughing darkly.

“Release her.”

The second soldier jumped backwards. “Commander Cullen.”

The man pinning down Luna refused to let go. “This isn’t your business. Leave us be.”

The sound of steel rang out as Commander Cullen slowly pulled his sword from his belt. “It is now. I said release her. I won’t repeat myself again.”

“Aw, you want the damned knife ear, do ya? This useless—” the man’s snarling was cut off by a small cry as a blade was driven through his back and out his chest. His hot blood splattered on Luna as she wriggled herself to her feet, falling backwards in shock at the body before her. The second soldier was backing away on his back from the commander, begging for him to spare his life.

“Leave Skyhold at once. You have no place here. I won’t have filth in my army.” Cullen’s tone was so severe it almost didn’t match his body. “Or you have the same fate as your friend here. Rape is punishable by death.”

The soldier scrambled up and took off into the dark, whimpering like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Luna finally realized she was hyperventilating, her sobs coming out in squeaks as she tried to scoot away from the entire situation, her arm sore from the twisting. She was covered in blood, and no amount of rubbing seemed to make it go away. It stained her clothes and covered her hands, still warm from the body it used to be in.

Cullen’s heart pounded in his ears as he turned to the small woman before him, her image pitiful as she trembled on the ground. He held a hand towards her. “Luna—”

“Get the fuck away!” she screamed, “Get away!”

He knelt, hand still outstretched, “Luna, I’m not going to hurt you, please—”

She clambered to her feet, still shaky and unstable. “Get—away. I won’t—”

“What the hell happened here?” Owen emerged from the shadows, blade in hand. He looked bewildered as he observed the soldier’s body on the ground, the soil dark with blood. His eyes darted to Cullen, and then to Luna, his brow furrowed as he observed her eyes still glazed over in shock.

“She was attacked by two soldiers. I…fixed the problem.” Cullen replied, standing back up.

Owen was silent. “Why were you out here alone?” he directed his question to Luna.

“I…didn’t think I’d be in danger. I was going to walk back to my quarters… by myself… everyone else was piss drunk…I—I just wanted to go to bed, dammit…” she stammered, her gaze still glued to the situation before her.

Cullen instinctively brought a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. Every bone in his body wanted to pick her up and hug her and remind her that everything would be perfectly fine. She had seemed so small, so helpless, and he knew how much that hurt her. He felt at fault. And in a sense, he was: Cole should’ve been listened to. He could see him lingering in the doorway of the tavern out of the corner of his eye, his large hat preceding him.

At the same time, Cullen understood how bad this made him look: the girl hadn’t been here a week and already was facing trouble from none other than _his_ soldiers. He felt responsible, and he felt the heavy weight of guilt on his heart as Owen knelt forward.

“Come here. I’ll take you to your quarters. Don’t walk by yourself anymore.” The boy directed, picking Luna up gingerly. She had her arms outstretched, linking them around his neck. He turned to Cullen. “And thank you for your help… I wouldn’t have gotten here in time had you not been here, Commander.”

Cullen simply nodded his acknowledgment as he watched the new recruit head towards the girl’s quarters. She couldn’t help but steal a glimpse at Cullen as she rested her head on Owen’s shoulder. He was still standing there, sword bloodied in his hand, the soldier’s body pale and lifeless before him. His expression was nearly undiscernible in the dark, yet he seemed so much more vulnerable than normal. The vision of him kneeling with an outstretched hand was burnt into her mind: and if she was honest with herself, she wished she had grasped it and allowed him to help her. Gone was the cold, stern expression that she had grown so accustomed to, his golden irises finally warm and sincere. She wondered how things would’ve played if she did take his gloved hand, instead of cowering away like a damaged animal. He seemed slightly hurt as she shrank away from him, looking away from her as Owen approached.

They were nearing her quarters now.

“Luna, I don’t want you alone with him.”

She was startled from her thoughts as he sat her on her bed. “What?”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you. I feel like he would’ve just as easily snatched you up like those soldiers tried to. You were right to distrust him like you did.”

“But… but he killed—”

“I know what he did. I know he helped. I’m just _telling_ you that under no circumstances should you have to be alone with him. I don’t trust—”

“Owen, I’m not going to have you up my ass every time I walk anywhere in Skyhold. I’m fucking twenty years old, not the explosive, unstable eight year old that you think of every time I cross your mind. We’re not in the slums anymore; we don’t have a forest to hide in; let me fucking live. What happened tonight was a coincidence.” She replied hotly, standing up.

“You’re actually defending the commander: I’m _touched_. What happened to that defiant attitude you threw at him, earlier, hm?” Owen bent down slightly to match her height, his brow furrowed and his arms crossed. “He’s a Templar, through and through. His people are the ones that swept through the town every other fucking month to try and take you away, don’t you remember? You can’t trust someone who can’t even look at you as a person. To him, you’re nothing more than an apostate. A genetic failure that should be constantly guarded and watched. An _animal_. Do you respect someone like that, Luna?”

“He wouldn’t have defended me if he didn’t care!” she yelled back, “He went and even persuaded Dorian to help me use my magic, he—”

“Oh for fucks’ sake, open your damn _eyes_ , Luna!” Owen turned from her angrily, his one hand tangled in his mane. “He did that because he _had to._ He did that because this is the Inquisition, and not the Templar order! Do you really think he would’ve defended you like that if you were one of the poor mages in Kirkwall that were openly abused in public? Of course not; he would’ve done what he did then: turn a blind eye and pretend nothing was happening because he thinks mages aren’t people.”

Luna looked dejectedly towards the ground, biting her lip in frustration.

“I know, I know you’re not exactly a mage, but you have mage abilities that you’re training and I never understood where it came from, and honestly if I could take it away from you I would. But this is your fate now, and I don’t trust how he looks at you like some kind of danger.”

“I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

“I’m aware. And I won’t stop you or try to control who you talk to. Just—please, be careful. That’s all I ask.”

[Next day]

Luna arose early again.

She needed to thank him.

It had plagued her all night, the hurt look on the commander’s face. She wasn’t sure why: it all seemed incredibly stupid to begin with. But the longer the night went, the more she wished she took his hand. Would he have hugged her? Simply pulled her to her feet? She wasn’t sure what to do with any of this information. Her wrists were burnt and raw from the rope and her shoulder crunched when she moved it too much. The drunken, metallic breath hitting the back of her neck still made her shiver. Feeling that helpless, and feeling that restrained – she knew she’d never truly get over it. But she had to at least thank the commander, despite Owen’s concerns.

She approached his door and froze, slowly lifting a hand to knock. _Dammit… I don’t know if I should do this anymore…_ She knocked anyway, quickly withdrawing her hand to tuck it into her cloak.

“yes?”

 _Up early… as usual…_ she slowly entered, standing in the doorway for a second before shutting the door behind her. “I…hope I’m not disturbing anything. I know it’s early.”

Cullen had his back towards her, engrossed with a report in his hand. “You’re not. However, may I ask what you needed to talk about?”

“I wanted to thank you.” She couldn’t believe the words actually left her mouth. She’d been drilling them in her head all morning.

Cullen slowly turned, the bags under his eyes emphasized in the morning sun pouring through his window. “I…you’re welcome, Luna.” He almost murmured, locking eyes with her briefly before hurriedly looking away.

“I know that—you have some questionable feelings about mages, and magic, but…I hope that won’t be too much of a problem. I’ll keep training with Dorian so that I’m not a…danger, I suppose.” Her voice trailed off as she ducked her head to hide her flushing cheeks.

Cullen looked up at her. Her white tunic hung loosely on her body, her scabbed knuckles obvious as she clasped them in front of her. “What happened to your hands?”

She blushed darker. “I punched my headboard.” She said plainly, scratching the back of her head in slight nervousness.

He raised an eyebrow. “Any particular reason? I can’t imagine the headboard did anything wrong to you, unless it did.”

She giggled. “I hated the ruckus I caused on the training grounds… And I suppose my frustration had to go somewhere that wouldn’t say ‘ouch’.”

Cullen threw his head back with a warm laugh. “I mean, I have new recruits that could always use a few punches, and they’re far softer than your headboard!”

The sound of his laughter seemed to melt away the icy wall between them, his stern demeanor disappearing.

Luna straightened up from her slightly hunched stance, pulling her hood back from her face. She felt like she didn’t need it here, anymore.

But Maker, he looked so nice when he actually smiled. The dimples in his cheeks were almost child-like, the crows’ feet creasing near his temples. The pale scar on his lip somehow complimented his smile even further, tugging upwards. The same golden irises she screamed at the other night seemed much more welcome than when she first arrived, their honey-like fire glinting like sparks in the sunlight.

Luna did her best to mentally shake herself away from these thoughts. It wasn’t right.

The scar on Cullen’s lip still twitched slightly as his face settled with a slight smirk. “Really, Luna, I’m glad I was there to help you last night… although I feel like you should also thank Cole.”

Luna seemed perplexed. “Why Cole?”

“He was the one who told me that two soldiers were saying certain things about you… I admit, I didn’t believe him at first. I haven’t been fond of him since his recruitment, and I’ve been incredibly wary of him… however I realize that these thoughts of mine have been incorrect. I only wish I had gotten to you before—before they grabbed you like that.” Cullen’s expression seemed to deepen as he painfully recalled the previous night.

Luna shifted nervously. “It’s quite alright, it’s nothing I haven’t experienced bef—” she cut herself short, suddenly starting to back away. “I should go.”

“You’ve been treated like that before?” Cullen’s tone was so pained that she hardly recognized it. He wished he hadn’t said anything about the previous night, now: just when she was starting to bloom and show her colors, she immediately retracted back into her tightly wound shell and her eyes regained that firm yet wary resentment.

She inhaled sharply. “Yes. On more than one occasion. Templars, nobles, humans and elves alike. It’s fairly easy to abuse someone’s existence when they’re not viewed as a person but rather as a mistake. I’m sure you’re fairly familiar with that mindset.” And with that she yanked her hood back over her face and darted outside.

Cullen was unable to find words, his throat tight as he watched her flee, as if he was some kind of danger to her, as if he brandished a weapon at her. _…I deserved that._ The pain in his head returned with a deep pang, and no amount of massaging seemed to make it leave. He did his best to try and focus on the work scattered on his desk, yet he couldn’t seem to remove himself from his planted position.

_Should I have gone after her?_

She’d been chased and berated enough. Maybe it was for the best that she distrusted him and stayed away from him. He was nothing more than an ex-Templar with a painful past, anyway, right? He shouldn’t be entertaining the thought of this damaged, skittish woman that was blushing and giggling before him not five minutes ago. He was the commander of the Inquisition armies, not some brave knight. His actions at Kirkwall preceded him much further than he ever wanted, yet he couldn’t bring himself to forgive his own actions, regardless of how far in the past they were. He couldn’t expect someone else to forgive him.

And after all, she was right.

Luna blew past her older brother’s open arms as she fled across the training grounds, her eyes nearly overbrimming and her bottom lip clenched between her teeth. She ignored his calling, her one hand gripped tightly on her hood to keep it far over her eyes.

The shame: she hated it.

She’d gone there to thank, not accuse. Yet here she was, running from him like her life was in danger. That same pained look she remembered from the previous night was far more ingrained now. It overpowered the warm smile that she liked so much.

But why did she care?


End file.
